The wrong half
by Kismet76
Summary: K-meme fill. Zevran and the apparently goody-goody Warden get so loud and enthusiastic no one can ignore it. Oneshot. Zevran/f!Cousland


Maker, it had been so long. She felt like she was _starving_. And he looked good enough to eat... Quite literally.

He was gorgeous and clearly at ease with his own sexuality, and he had had the guts to offer his services that very afternoon, after his failed ambush, while she had him tied up at her feet.

Flirting in the face of death, what an attitude! She had started to like him immediately because of that. She was trying to think of a valid reason not to allow him to warm her bed that very night.

He was an assassin, true, but he was sincere in his desire to leave the Crows.

He could have two reasons for bedding her: he still wanted to assassinate her, or he wanted to assure his position inside their little group. In the first case, she was perfectly capable of defending herself, if need be – not mentioning that she felt a peculiar thrill at the idea of the two of them together in a tent, naked, with knives. In the second one, why not let him do just that? Alistair would be shocked on finding out, of course, as would most of her companions, but she could blame stress or some sort of nervous breakdown for her minor sin.

Elena Cousland was one of the last two surviving Grey Wardens of Ferelden, but she was also a woman. To be able to lead their group against a Blight, she would have to be alive and sane, and she knew she needed release if she wanted to effectively restrain herself from killing some of her petulant companions before the end.

She suppressed a yawn, tired as she was of listening to what Wynne was telling her (something about honor and duty, of course), all the while trying very pointedly not to look across the fire, in the elf's direction.

When the mage finally left her alone, she found that some of her companions had already gone to sleep. Only Alistair, Morrigan and Leliana were still sitting around the fire with her. And Zevran, of course.

He was watching her, and she caught herself looking back at him. Grinning, she rose from her spot and went to sit right by his side.

*****

Talking to him was fascinating, between his adventurous tales and his enticing accent. They talked by the fire for a long time, up to the point that Leliana (sweet, lovely, _romantic_ Leliana) suggested with a wink that they take first watch together.

Poor Alistair tried to object, but gave up as soon as Zevran suggested that _he_ take first watch with him, instead. To his credit, it must be said that Zevran was positively leering at him while suggestively running a hand on his own upper thigh.

Elena suppressed a giggle at that, and Alistair dove for his tent, making a show of closing its flaps _very tight_.

"How cruel of him to deny me the pleasure of his company," Zevran said, laughing. "But I think it is much better this way, yes?" he added then, looking at Elena with burning eyes. "He _is_ easily fooled, anyway."

She smiled, blushing like a maiden, and Morrigan laughed out loud. "You are not as shallow as you seem, assassin" she said. He bowed with a flourish in her direction and blew her a kiss. "Or maybe you are, after all," she added before rising to her feet and marching to her tent without as much as a nod to the Warden.

With their other companions gone, Elena felt she could finally relax a bit. Maintaining her 'dutiful Grey Warden' façade was quite demanding, but with Zevran she felt she could let it fall. He had sworn an oath to _her_, after all, not to the Grey Wardens, so it was her approval and protection he would want to ensure.

As soon as the witch was gone, he put an arm around her waist and pulled her on his lap, sideways, diving in for a kiss. She giggled at the unexpected move – well, not _that_ unexpected, maybe – and decided to go with the flow.

Maker, but he was good. He was cradling her head in his hand, while the other ran small circles across her ribcage. His lips were warm and full, and she moaned wantonly when his talented tongue invaded her mouth. She circled his shoulders with her arms, and he growled when she arched against his roaming hand, silently pleading him to touch her breasts.

He moved his hands to her waist and lifted her slightly, instead, laying her down on the soft grass before following suit and stretching out upon her. She whimpered when he resumed kissing her and palmed a breast.

He nudged her knees apart with one of his own, then moved his hand to her waist, caressing what skin was within reach under the hem of her shirt.

"Ah, wait," she breathed in his ear, "let's go to my te…"

She couldn't finish her sentence, since he decided to kiss her again, very thoroughly. His hand descended to the top of her thigh, then between her legs, where he began to pet her above her cotton breeches. She moaned quite loudly then, and when he broke the kiss she followed his lips out of instinct.

He chuckled and licked her bottom lip, while denying her further contact. She whimpered in frustration and laid her head back to the grass, guessing he would get up. When he didn't, she looked down to his face, wondering what he was doing.

She gasped in surprise when she saw that he was unlacing her breeches. "No, wait, let's get up-"

He didn't bother interrupting her with a kiss this time, simply moving back a bit and pulling down her breeches until they reached her knees.

"Wait, what are you-"

He put his hand over her mouth, locking eyes with her. "Shh, my Grey Warden. I can read you much better than your other companions," he said. "I know you want this. Better yet, you _need_ this. I can feel the tension in your body. I could sense it this very afternoon, when you groaned under your breath as I offered to warm your bed." He sat up, straddling her left leg, and with no further need to support himself with his other hand, he resumed his fondling, this time with only her smallclothes separating his fingers from her folds.

He chuckled again as she pushed herself against his hand, closing her eyes. "See? This is what you need, and I am best suited to give it to you."

As soon as he took away his hand from her mouth in order to open her shirt and get her smallclothes off, she resumed her protests. "Ah, Zevran…"

"Zev, to my friends," he said, a smug smile on his face.

"Please, stop," she whined. "Someone could come… We should… _Ahh_… guard the camp…"

He ignored her half-hearted protests in favour of undoing the laces of his own breeches single-handedly, then he pushed both his knees between hers and pressed his hardness against her folds, lengthwise. "We _are_ guarding the camp, are we not? If we went to your tent, or mine for that matter, wouldn't we put the rest of the group in danger? We are only being _responsible_ by staying here, I tell you."

He slowly slid his erection back and forward along her slit, teasing her into frustrated moans. "Besides, you are absolutely _drenched_, my dear Warden. Are you sure you want me to stop right now?"

When she didn't answer his question, too caught in his motions to focus, he stopped altogether and leant down. "Maybe I should rephrase that," he purred in her ear. "Do you want me to stop, or do you want me to _fuck you_?"

Her hips twitched, and when her moaning alone didn't seem enough to lure him back into motion, she growled and pushed him back. With unexpected force, she jumped on him, pushing him down on the grass and straddling his waist, their positions now reversed. He gave a startled laugh and caressed her thighs.

"What makes you think I can't take what I want?" she growled, her voice laced with command as well as lust. "What makes you think I won't use you" she whispered, slowly lowering herself onto him, "and then discard you, as the toy that you are?"

He laughed at her, grabbing her hips and thrusting upwards, _hard_. She felt a twinge of pain and bared her teeth to him, hissing like a cat.

"I know who you really are and what you're doing," he whispered, darkly, "and two can play this game."

"Really?" she asked, breathless. "You think you know me, hah!" she whispered, pushing back against his hips, riding him, challenging him. "You don't know me at all."

"What I know, my Warden, is that you are quite the actress. You have fooled all of them, yes? The innocent templar as well as the mage, up to the suspicious witch. They all believe you an innocent, a victim of events much larger than you. I do not think so." The way her motions changed gave her away, her hips coming to a stop against his.  
He pressed on, picking up the tempo she had lost. "You suffered very much, that part is true, but the rest is a façade. You hide yourself from them. You wear the mask of a hero, and you say and do things so that they will believe in you and follow your lead."

He sat up then, pulling her legs around his waist and licking her neck, lowering his voice to a murmur by her ear. "You really _want_ to fight this Blight, but you do not believe they will accept you, and follow you, if they knew what you really are." His motions were now gentler, one hand on the back of her neck, keeping her against his chest, and one on her hip, controlling their joining.

She didn't speak. How could he have read her so easily, in so short a time span? If this was any indication of his skills as an assassin, he would certainly prove himself useful in the future. That is, if she could keep him quiet about her little secret. "What do you want from me?" she panted, eventually, circling her arms around his shoulders.

He looked at her, raising a brow, laying her slowly on the ground and beneath him again. "Isn't it obvious?" he purred, emphasizing the unspoken answer with a single, hard thrust.

She gasped, as the change in angle got him deeper inside of her. "Apart from sex," she managed to say.

"Sex is what _you_ need," he laughed darkly. "Not that I mind one little bit, by the way. It is a very good incentive, at the very least. No, what I want is a _purpose_, and I happen to think that by sticking with you I will find a challenging one." His movement increased in speed and strength, and she moaned as his mouth descended on her breast, licking and suckling at a nipple.

"_My_ purpose is to end this Maker-forsaken Blight," she growled, threading a hand in his soft hair and pulling him up, reaching for his pointed ear with her mouth. "Then I'll be free to kill that Howe dog," she whispered, nipping at his earlobe. "And everyone who helped him destroying my family," she added with another nip, slowly climbing her way up his ear. "And finally I'll get my Teyrny back," she concluded, biting the sensitive point of his ear, making him moan loudly and thrust harder inside of her. "So, how does my revenge give you a purpose, pretty assassin?"

Zevran laughed breathlessly in her ear. "I do not know yet, Grey Warden. For the moment, I am simply content with having my way with you right in the middle of camp, where all the others could see us," he added, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I will keep your little secret, yes? In exchange, I will have free access to your tent."

She was definitely amused at his proposal. He may be an interesting partner, after all. "Meaning that you'd get to _fuck me_, as you so eloquently put it, whenever you want?"

"Essentially, yes, though I would add 'in any way I choose' to the terms of our agreement," he grinned, moving a hand to her knee and pushing it up and towards her chest.

They both groaned at the sensation, and she laughed in between gasps. "Done. You know, you're quite a fool, for one so smart. Your oath to me already requires you to 'warm my bed'. You didn't gain anything you didn't have before, with this bargain."

"I don't think so, Warden," he said, his grinning face only a few inches above hers. "Tomorrow morning you may think differently, too." He pulled out of her, laughing at her groan of protest, then flipped her over, arranging her so she was lying on her stomach with her hips up. "Now we play a little, yes?"

Their groaning and moaning was becoming louder by the moment, and Elena started to wonder if her companions would wake up from the increasing noise.

She was distantly thinking of warning Zevran not to compromise her position, when a laughter bubbled up in her throat at the pun. She was naked, on the ground, having sex from behind with a man, _no_, an elf, who had tried to kill her that very afternoon. If only Howe could see her now, his victory would be complete.

The bitter laughter died in her chest when the assassin, currently bending over her form, managed to distract her from her train of thought.

"This is a most interesting reaction," he whispered in her ear, "one that I'm not used to hearing from a partner in such a situation. What has you laughing, Warden?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, swallowing audibly, focusing again on what they were doing. "They'll hear us, you know? What of our… agreement if they hear us… me?"

"Warden," he growled, marking his words with hard, slow thrusts, "I want. Them. To."

She bit the inside of her cheek to contain the scream that threatened to escape from her throat. "W-why?" she managed to ask, in a strangled voice.

"Because," he whispered, retreating from her and leaving her suddenly empty and cold, "they need to know. They need a reason for me to be by your side, yes? You have to scream in passion, _for me_."

Her eyes opened in confusion as he pushed her on her back, entering her again. He smirked at her as she mewled in pleasure.

"It will be easier for them to accept my presence if they _hear_ how good I make you feel, how you sing for me in bliss. We are so different in their eyes… If anything, this will help maintain your façade. Tell me, Warden," he asked in a soft voice, pushing deliberately against her nub with every thrust, "if I fuck you all through the rest of our shift, will you blush tomorrow, when you meet the others' looks?"

She groaned, louder this time, somehow following his reasoning even through the hazy mist of sensation she was currently lost in. _What would the others think?_ She felt herself blushing immediately.

"Ah, yes!" he said, triumphantly. "This is it. So strong and resourceful… and yet you blush so prettily! A true noblewoman, yes?"

She laughed under her breath, trying to speak . "And you… Do you always… _ahh_… talk so much?"

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her briefly. "Only when I want to hold back for the sake of my partner."

He kissed her again, then moved with deliberate slowness to her neck, biting and licking the soft skin there. His right hand slid to her breast, kneading and pinching with exactly the right amount of strength she desired, and she started to feel the pressure build steadily inside her center.

She writhed, letting go of her restraint, her control… Not completely trusting him, of course, but _allowing_ him to bring her over, to pull her to the release she needed so much…

"_Zevran!_"

She came hard, screaming his name, contracting around him and losing control of her body. A few moments later he emptied himself inside of her, shouting a word she didn't recognize.

He kissed her again then, slowly and tenderly, and even in her state of post-coital bliss, a corner of her mind registered _that_. She threaded a hand through his now dishevelled hair. " were so loud, we may have attracted the Archdemon's attention," she murmured, amused.

He chuckled, a little breathless. "Ah, what can I say? I am a dedicated man."

She laughed out loud as he slipped out of her, resting his head on her shoulder. She felt elated and a little dizzy, and she kept her arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. _For warmth, of course_. Elena was naked, after all, while he was still mostly dressed.

"Are you cold, my Warden?" Zevran asked.

"Hm, now I'm _your_ Warden again, huh?" She felt strangely content at the notion, but she tried to show amusement, instead.

"A question for a question, is it?" His eyes were full of mirth when they met hers. "Well, _mia dolce_ Elena, I think you should get dressed now." She arched a brow, and he smiled at her confusion. "The Archdemon is not the only guest we may have summoned, I think."

He made a small gesture towards Alistair's tent, whose flaps were not as tightly closed as before. She scrambled to her knees, a genuine blush spreading over her face and neck while she got dressed. He went to his feet in front of her and fastened his breeches, casually standing between her and the almost-Templar's tent.

As soon as she was dressed, Zevran took Elena's hand and pulled her towards Wynne's tent. He rapped against the canvas, then went to Sten's tent and repeated the same gesture. He pulled Elena away then, and right before they dove into his tent, Elena saw both Wynne and Sten walking to the campfire, suitably dressed and armed for the shift. Did they sleep at all? She wondered, and blushed.

She couldn't make out their expressions in the dark, but she could swear that the Qunari muttered "_Imekari_" under his breath.

"It is a pity, really," Zevran said while kneeling beside her and closing the flaps of his tent.

"What is?" she asked, startled.

"That your companions aren't more open-minded. I know nothing of the Qunari, but you Fereldans can be so finicky…" His hands were occupied in unbuttoning her shirt, _again_. "Are you sure you're not part Antivan?"

"Quite sure," she said, setting to unlacing his breeches with a grin.

*****

Elena ended up sleeping in Zevran's tent that night, too tired to get up and leave after the most intense shagging of… well, of her life, and not really caring about the possible repercussions.

She sighed, rolling on her side and finding she really couldn't move that much, without disentangling herself from Zevran first. She gave up her struggling as soon as she felt on her shoulders the cold air that surrounded the warm cocoon of covers, and she sighed softly.

"Any regrets, my Warden?" he asked, sounding as though he had been awake for a while.

"Hmm, no," she answered, her voice still laced with sleep. "It's cold outside, that's all." As soon as she said it, she realized it was very true: no regrets at all. What a wonderful feeling. She snuggled against him, pulling the covers up to her chin, and smiled contentedly. "You're so warm."

"One of my many talents," he said, chuckling softly. "I must inform you, though, that our companions are all awake and eating breakfast. Morrigan's cuisine, I assume, if Alistair's muttering is any indication.

She smiled at the thought, first, then realized she would have to go out there some time soon. "Ohh, no…"

He laughed, following her train of thought. "Yes, my Warden, I think you'll have to face them very soon. Are you prepared?"

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Hmm, no… Let's stay here a bit longer." She snaked one of her hands around his torso and down his side, caressing his skin in a very suggestive way.

"My sweet lady, you should get up and get dressed, yes?" he said, taking her wandering hand in his and pulling her up to a sitting position with him. "The sooner we pack up, the sooner we arrive in Redcliffe. I am quite sure there is a tavern in that village."

"And what would you ever want to do in a tavern?" she purred as she gathered her clothes and started getting dressed.

"Think about it, my Warden. Bed. A four-poster, maybe. Ah, the possibilities."

She laughed out loud and playfully smacked his bottom.

When they emerged from his tent, the rest of the party froze in mid-action and stood, watching them. He smiled, amused, and she blushed. For once, it was a spontaneous reaction rather than a calculated one. She stopped briefly at her tent, grabbing a towel and some soap, before basically running away to the nearby river, very pointedly avoiding her companions' eyes.

Zevran moved to the fire, instead, stretching languidly and smirking at Alistair. The almost-Templar blushed and hid himself in his bowl of pudding while Zevran took a seat right beside him.

"It must be good, yes? Who cooked it?" Zevran asked, feigning ignorance.

"M-Morrigan," Alistair all but spluttered.

"Ah, the lovely witch. It must have an _exotic_ taste, then. Have you ever sampled it before?"

"I… don't know? I don't remember, really," he answered, looking at the elf with barely concealed distrust.

"Ah, then you never had the _pleasure_, I'm sure. You would most certainly remember that, my friend."

"I'm… not sure I want to be your friend," Alistair replied, confused. "And besides, it's not even _that_ good! I mean, Lady Isolde's pudding, _that_ is something to remember! But this, really…"

Leliana's snicker drew away the Warden's attention just as Wynne made to stand up and get away from the fire.

"Is everything all right, my dear mage?" Zevran asked, a brilliant smile on his face.

"Oh, you _children_ and your games… I'll go talk to Elena, now," she said, walking away with a dignified expression on her face. "And I'm not _your mage_, young man."

"Ah, I know. I am terrible and it makes me sad," he said, theatrically putting a hand upon his heart. "May I rest my head in your bosom? I wish to cry."

"You… You…"

"Yes?"

"… I give up."


End file.
